


after-school activities

by gandalfspace



Category: Magic School Bus
Genre: (does it count if the dildo is a gearstick?), Cunnilingus, Destroying Childhood Memories, Dildos, I'm Sorry, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex with a Car, Wranglers Are Not Adult Supervision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 18:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18394403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfspace/pseuds/gandalfspace
Summary: After all the kids have gone home for the day, Ms Frizzle and the bus get steamy.





	after-school activities

All the kids had gone home for the day. No more Arnold, who had an overactive sense of his own mortality. No more Carlos (and no more Carlos puns, which Ms Frizzle frankly admired). No more seatbelts or forgotten lunches or dog-ate-my-homework. 

It was just Ms Frizzle, Liz and the bus. As it should be.

Naturally, as she had many times before, once she was certain there were no children coming back for a forgotten book or to ask a question they could not possibly save for tomorrow, Ms Frizzle returned to the bus, took off her shoes and undid her bra with a happy sigh. She loved the kids, and she loved teaching, but it was also important to have some Ms Frizzle Time. 

Liz gave her a glass of wine without her even asking, which is surely the sign of a true friend. It was a delicious red, terribly expensive in America but perfectly affordable if you took a magic bus for a quick jaunt to France. Her lifestyle (both the frequency with which she get fired from schools that realised she was not setting standardised tests or teaching to a boring, useless syllabus, and also the quality of wine and chocolates she preferred) was only possible with the bus. She had several investment schemes insured by time travel (she was a major shareholder in several companies that had not yet been founded) and when she needed quick cash she could make a tidy profit on the black market for goods that had either disappeared or were still in the future.

In short, life was good for Ms Frizzle. This school district seemed spectacularly unobservant, and she hoped she could stay for a good long while. A glass of wine, a lizard, a job she loved — what more could a girl need?

As she sat in the driver’s seat, sipping her wine and wondering where she should take the kids for the next school excursion, the bus rumbled to life without any direction from her. Sometimes, the bus very much had a mind of its own. It was occasionally difficult to discern what the bus wanted, but this time the way the windows tinted until Ms Frizzle was positive no one could possibly see inside. The only thing worse than some of Carlos’s puns was having a child unexpectedly appear at the window, wanting Ms Frizzle’s attention outside of school hours.

The bus’ rumbling changed, as if it had revved up a gear, although it wasn’t moving. Instead, it vibrated Ms Frizzle’s seat in a tantalising way. The bus may have been magic, but it was still fundamentally a bus, and thus had terrible suspension. Ms Frizzle would be the first to admit that this was not always a downside, however. She repositioned herself on the seat so that the vibrations felt like they were going straight to her clit and rocked back and forth a little. She dipped her hand under her skirt to rub at her clit and the bus began moving for real this time, though she wasn’t sure where it was taking her. She didn’t really care — wherever it was, the bus knew what to do.

Soon enough the bus stopped moving but didn’t turn off, continuing to vibrate. She knew she could get herself off with her hands and the vibration of the bus, but she wanted _more_ , so she took off her underwear and positioned herself over the gearstick, rubbing at her clit as she slowly, slowly eased down onto it. After pausing for a moment as she had the gearstick fully inside her, she began to move, fucking herself on it as her fingers still moved, murmuring nonsense to the bus the whole time. The top of the gearstick was metal, and the temperature difference between the cool metal and the room temperature of the rest of the gearstick was a wonderful sensation. The bus moved up a gear and she felt her orgasm build to a peak until finally she came with a gasp, one last thrust onto the gearstick and her hand still rubbing herself through it. 

She eased herself back off the gearstick and sat back down, caressing the steering wheel and the side of the bus as she sat in the afterglow, smiling contentedly. She didn’t need to say anything. The bus knew.

Instead of turning off, however, which is what she would have expected, the bus continued to rumble, though at a much slower rate. It was all too easy for her to become interested again, and she began to lazily rub herself as she considered whether this time she could use the corner of the seat to tease herself. Before she got terribly far, the bus turned off and the doors opened. 

It was not like the bus to interrupt this kind of activity and leave her all excited with no release (and the bus had known exactly what it was doing when it hadn’t turned off after she came — she was certain of that). She also knew that the bus had a sense of what was appropriate and what was not in public, confirmed when she saw that on the other side of the door was the living room of her apartment. (How the bus had got inside was a mystery she never looked at too closely. She sometimes found that thinking too hard about the realities of the bus gave her migraines, which were an excellent deterrent.)

As she hesitated, the bus wiggled as if to emphasise the open door. She saw no other choice, really, as she exited the bus and was greeted by the bus’ face. The bus didn’t always have a face, of course, but when it did the headlights became eyes and the grill became an enormous mouth with an enormous pink tongue.

The bus beeped softly in greeting, and she rubbed a hand down its side, smiling as the headlights flickered as if they were eyelids fluttering closed. The giant pink tongue licked a stripe up her leg and she moved closer to the bus’ mouth even as she unzipped her dress and took it off, leaving herself completely naked in front of her dearest companion (sorry Liz). The bus beeped again, this time higher-pitched, and the tongue once more licked her, first a stripe up her other leg and then instead of her clit, which felt like it was throbbing with how much she desperately wanted sensation, it roamed across her shoulders, down her neck, her nipples, her stomach. 

“Please,” she said, and it didn’t really occur to her that she had hands of her own — hands that had, until a minute ago, had been providing the sensation she craved. The bus clearly had plans for how this was going to go, and she was willing to go along with them.

At last, finally, the bus licked at her clit and she gasped at the overwhelming sensation. The tongue was so hot and wet and absolutely — she could barely think as it showed surprising deftness as it licked her, moving from her clit to her thighs and teasing at her entrance. Ms Frizzle’s hips bucked almost involuntarily as she felt herself be undone by her own sentient school bus.

It concentrated at her entrance for a few moments, trying to lick up and inside her, bus it was simply too large — it sensed when the gasps of pleasure became sharp inhales of discomfort, and backed off, going back to her thighs and her clit. “Next time,” she said, swallowing and glad no one could see how laboured her breathing was, how flushed her cheeks. “Next time I want to be sitting down for this at least, I think my legs keep forgetting they have to hold me up.”

The bus beeped in acknowledgement but didn’t slow its ministrations. Her legs trembled as she continued to thrust and the tongue continued to move over her, all-consuming heat and then leaving coolness in its wake as it moved to somewhere else. At last, as she felt certain her legs really would give out soon, she felt her orgasm building inside her, thrusting harder and muttering encouragement to the bus, which finally focused its efforts entirely on her clit. 

The orgasm was quite possibly the best she’d ever had, although as a scientist she would have to run some kind of experiment and repeat it multiple times to categorically state that with certainty. Her vision whited out and afterwards she felt like all of her limbs were leaden. The sofa was only a few steps away, so she collapsed onto it, finally sated. 

“Thanks, bus,” she said with a grin. Truly, what more could a girl need?

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to all the wranglers who encouraged this, especially to whoever brought up the possibility in the first place (I cannot remember who you are). My deepest apologies to anyone familiar with MSB canon, of which I know basically none. This took me FOREVER to write the pornless first portion because I was dreading writing the actual smut for the first time ever; when I actually bit the bullet and did it though, I got it all done in one very long afternoon. Who knew.
> 
> Update 14/06/19: Yes I am anoning this, but I'm not orphaning it, so make of that what you will.
> 
> This all began because I proposed that all sentient cars could be categorised as either a Brum (British, eager to avoid detection as sentient and/or fights crime) or a Herbie (horny and/or is invested in humans). The Magic School Bus is clearly a Herbie, because it is horny for adventure. If you comment with a sentient vehicle I will pass judgement on whether it is a Herbie or a Brum. I am also open to your opinions of Herbie/Brumness.
> 
> Lastly: I am deeply sorry.


End file.
